Frostbite
by extraordinarynow
Summary: Series of prequel novellas to Shiver.
1. INTRODUCTION

Hello internet!

I want to apologise for not sticking with my story.

Recently (today) someone read Shiver and left a review that I should've kept writing. I know I should have, unfortunately I've had a crazy year and not been able to keep up with fanfiction.  
I'm an English teacher, and over the past few months I've moved from the UK to Switzerland to start a new teaching job- it's been insane.

I've also recently come down with a cold, which has allowed me some time to get writing again, and I'm happy to tell anyone who was interested that I'll be continuing with Shiver.  
I know some people don't like it because it is very different from the television series, but I love it. I also began writing about Astrid and the Azgeda before the third series came out. As much as Queen Nia and Prince Roan were badass- I can't help but want to play out my own characters.

There should be a new chapter up today.

Also- hence the reason for this post.  
I have decided to write a mini-series of events that happened BEFORE Shiver. It will give readers a bit more of an insight into Astrid's character and her family background- in particular her brother Rowan who is mentioned in Shiver.

I hope you enjoy!

x


	2. The Floukru

The clock on the steel mantle chimed noon. Luna, the rogue Night-blood was late. Then again, so were Rowan and Astrid, but Luna had no excuse, not when they were already two hours behind schedule. Not when they were meeting on _her_ territory.  
And it wasn't _her_ fault for being tardy. She couldn't control the winds, and those skittish boat people warriors- so called- had certainly taken their time sailing to the sea-fort. She didn't want to think how much Rowan had spent on the secret to signalling Luna's people. But the Floukru lived on a remote fortress in the middle of the ocean, only those who lived there knew how to get there, so they hadn't really had a choice about their mode of transportation.  
"For every minute she makes us wait," Rowan said to his sister, "I'm deducting ten men from the deal."  
Astrid crossed her arms and scowled, "You'll do no such thing. Mother's letter is sealed, and it's going to remain that way."  
Neither of them had been particularly happy when their mother had announced that Rowan would be sent to meet the boat people with Astrid.  
Their mother had called Astrid an escort, but they both knew what that meant: a watchdog. Not that Rowan would do anything bad when he was about to meet Luna kom Floukru. It was a once in a lifetime chance. Even though the metal structure which shook in the waves hadn't really made much of an impression so far.

Even Astrid had been expecting a tower, like she'd seen in Polis. Or at least a fortified, aging castle, like they lived in in Azgeda.

Rowan walked to the metal desk and picked up a piece of paper, his black-gloved hand turning it over to read the contents. "A weather log," he chortled, "how dull."  
"What are you doing?"  
Rowan lifted another piece of paper, "If her lady-ship can't be bothered to clean for us, then I don't see why I can't have a look."  
"She'll be here any second," Astrid hissed.  
"Oh hush sister," he said, opening the desk draw, "with these steel floors, we'll hear her a mile off." Rowan removed a bottle, swirling the amber liquid in the sunlight streaming through the tiny porthole window, "Care for a drink?"  
"No," Astrid snapped, "put it back. _Now._ "  
He cocked his head, twirled the crystal bottle once more, and set it down. He sighed, and Astrid turned her grin towards the window.  
"She can't be a very good clan leader," he said, "if _this_ is her personal office."  
Astrid gave a stifled cry of dismay as Rowan plopped into the chair behind the desk and began rifling through the paperwork.  
He didn't know what he was looking for, exactly. His brows rose a bit at the sight of a piece of purple, perfumed paper, signed by someone named Nikolai. He leaned back in the chair, propping his feet on the desk, and read it.  
"Damn it, Ro! Get back in your seat!" Astrid reached for a sword that wasn't there. The guards had taken their weapons in the container they'd been shipped here on. Of course, none of them had realised that Rowan and Astrid were weapons themselves. They could kill Luna just as easily with their bare hands.  
"Or you'll fight me?" he tossed the love letter on the desk. "Somehow, I don't think that'd make a favourable impression on our new aquaintances." He crossed his arms behind his head, examining the light shapes through the window from sunlight reflected on the ocean.  
"I spent the last god-knows how many hours at sea, why should I sit in that uncomfortable chair when this one's far more suited to my tastes?"  
Astrid let out a growl. Before she could speak, the door opened.  
Astrid froze, but Rowan only inclined his head in greeting as Luna, entered her office.  
"I'm glad to see you've made yourself at home."  
Rowan remained still where he sat.  
Astrid stood, bowing her head slightly. "Astrid," she said by way of greeting.  
Luna extended her arm, and grasped Astrid's small hand.  
"I suppose you think you don't need an introduction," Luna turned to Rowan.  
"No," Rowan leaned back father in her desk chair, "I suppose I don't."

Luna chuckled, a crooked smile spreading across her tanned face. She stepped toward, head held high, a casual grace to her movements that came with knowing she had all the power here. She didn't have a sword, either. A bold move. "Drink?" she asked.  
"No thank you," Astrid replied, her eyes hard upon Rowan, willing him to take his feet off Luna's desk.  
Luna poured herself a drink, and took a long sip, watching Rowan over her glass. "Get out of my chair."

Astrid stayed tensed.  
Rowan examined the contents of Luna's desk once more, and clicked his tongue, shaking his head, "You really need to work on organizing his mess."  
Luna crossed the room and Rowan sensed her grabbing for his shoulder, on his feet before her fingers could graze the black wool of his cloak.  
"I wouldn't do that if I were you," he crooned.  
Luna's eyes gleamed with the challenge. "You're in my _territory_ now, _Ice-prince_. You are in no position to be giving me orders."  
Astrid cleared her throat, but Rowan stared into Luna's face. His eyes scanned the blackness in them.  
"Rowan," Astrid warned, clearing her throat again.

"Very well," he sighed loudly, and stepped around Luna as though she were nothing but a piece of furniture in his way. He sank into the chair beside Astrid, who flashed her a glare that burned enough to melt the entirety of the Frozen Wastes.

"You know why we are here-" Astrid began.  
"Or perhaps all that," Rowan interrupted, gesturing to the glass in her hand, "has gone to your head, shall I refresh your memory?"  
Luna raised a finger to Rowan, indicating he should be quiet. She then waved her hand for Astrid to continue, as if she were a Queen on her throne listening to the complaints of the rabble. _Ass._

"In exchange for your mining techniques, and details regarding the technology," Astrid spoke clearly, "we will send two thousand soldiers." She kicked Rowan in the shin.  
"A letter from our mother," she nodded, as Rowan yanked out the sealed document. He tossed them on the desk.  
A smile tugged on Luna's lips, but she pulled the letter to herself, studying the seal. "I'm surprised this hasn't been tampered with." Her eyes glimmered with mischief.  
With two deft flicks of her wrist, Luna sliced open the envelope with a letter-knife Rowan had somehow missed. How hadn't he spotted it? A fool's mistake.

In the silent minutes that passed as Luna read the letter, her only reaction was the occasional drumming of her fingers on the wooden desk.  
A long breath when Luna had finished left her lips, and she hoved the paper into the desk draw and locked it.  
"Your mother drives a hard bargain," she said, looking from Rowan to Astrid, "but her terms aren't unfair."  
Luna drummed her inked fingers again and ran a hand through her long dark hair. "As for the trade agreement she's outlined… I'll have my engineer's apprentice travel back to Azgeda with you."  
Astrid nodded thankfully.  
"When can I expect the first shipment of warriors?"  
"Two days after we return to Azgeda."

"And how can I be sure that you won't sell our technology on to the other clans?"  
Astrid froze, unsure of what to say.  
Rowan cleared his throat, and leaned forward, "You have my word that nothing will go awry, our Mother's too, she does not break deals."  
Luna didn't move, scrutinising him carefully.  
"We require your technology in order to keep our fires burning throughout the winter, my Mother would not sully her reputation by being dishonest. She appreciates-"  
" _We_ appreciate," Astrid corrected.  
"Yes- we appreciate your time and trust with this agreement," Rowan finished, "and we will make sure our business does not reach the wrong ears."  
"For your sake, I hope that is true," Luna nodded, "I'll have the documents and the apprentice ready for you tomorrow. For now… I have a room prepared for you."  
Rowan nodded and stood up, taking Luna's hand. Astrid followed suit.  
"I'll have baths drawn for you aswell," she added, "you could both use one."


	3. Control

Seated in the council room of Polis, Kwin Astrid leaned back in her chair. "It's past four in the morning," she hissed at Ress, adjusting the folds of her crimson silk dressing gown and crossing her bare legs beneath the wooden table. "This had better be important."  
"Perhaps if you hadn't been reading all night, you wouldn't be so exhausted," snapped the young man stood behind her chair. She ignored him and studied the twelve others assembled in the tower's chamber.

Mostly male, all far older than she, and all refusing to meet her stare. A chill that didn't have to do with the fact they were over 300 feet up in a drafty room ran down her spine. Picking at her manicured nails, Astrid schooled her features into neutrality.

This meeting was undeniably important. She'd known that from the moment the serving girl pounded at her door, insisting that she needed to come upstairs and not to bother to get dressed. Even Astrid knew that when summoned, she shouldn't keep anyone waiting. In fact, she'd have preferred to have known about the meeting before any of the others and to be there first. Thankfully, her sleepwear was as exquisite as her daytime wardrobe- and cost nearly as much thanks to the outfitters in Polis. Still, being in a room with men made her keep an eye on the neckline of her robe. Her beauty was a weapon- one she kept honed- but it could be a vulnerability.

Lexa, current Heda, lounged at the head of the table, her brown hair shining in the light from the glass chandelier. Her black eyes met Astrid's, and she frowned. It might just have been the late hour, but Astrid could have sworn that that she looked paler than usual.

"Your mother is dead."

The words rang in her head like a large and unrelenting bell. Astrid had gasped and she had reached for the arm of Ress Kastur- the man her brother had sent to Polis with her for protection. He remained behind her and, despite his own look of horror at the news, gripped her hand tightly.  
Her mother, the Queen, had been travelling down to Polis herself in order to meet with Lexa- she'd been ambushed on the way and killed.  
"Why weren't you there!" Astrid practically screamed across the table, not breaking eye contact with Lexa, "why weren't there people posted for her protection?!"  
"If we'd done that," Lexa said, refusing to back down from Astrid's glare, "it would have led to more deaths."  
"You're leaders of the twelve clans," Astrid growled, "You're _supposed_ to be able to lead people."  
"If you'd been there, you would have done the same."  
Astrid pushed her chair back so hard it flipped over. Ress jumped aside. "If I'd been there, I would have killed _all of them_ to ensure the Azgeda clan leader was protected!" She slammed her hands on the table, rattling the glasses.  
Lexa shot to her feet, hand on the hilt of her sword. As did two other clan leaders.  
"Oh hark at you," one spat at her, "Ordering us about like you are the Commander. But you're not Astrid." He shook his head "Mostly likely never will be."  
He was one of the few other twelve men that reacted in this way. A few looked at her in fear, more looked at her with surprise. They were impressed, she realised. Not many would stand up to Lexa the way she had, let alone declare how loyal she was to the alliance.

" _Enough,"_ Lexa snapped, sitting back down in her chair.  
Astrid didn't move. None of the other leaders spoke, though they gripped their various weapons.  
Ress cleared his throat, he'd seen first-hand what fights between clan leaders were like. He'd also seen what Astrid fought like.  
"I said, _enough."  
_ If the subordinate took one step towards her, drew his sword a fraction of an inch, that concealed dagger in her robe would find itself a new home in his neck.  
Ress moved first, grabbing Astrid's shoulder and pressing on her to re-take her seat. She didn't budge an inch, despite the force placed on her.  
"Check yourself, before she does it for you, _sir_ ," Ress murmured to the clan leader, his head bowed in respect, "you're a fool for picking a fight with her tonight."

Astrid bit down on her reply and waited for the leader to sit before she did. She could handle him. Tonight, or any other night, for that matter. If it came down to a fight she'd win- she always won.  
He relaxed into his seat and she did the same. Crossing his arms, he leaned against the back of his chair. She could still reach him- one flick of her wrist, and his throat would spout blood all over Lexa's pretty table.  
"Enough blood has been spilled tonight," Lexa said, her voice echoing through the silent room.

Her mother was dead and gone, and she'd never again see her at home the castle. She'd never set Astrid's injuries with her cool, deft hands, never coax a laugh from her with a joke or an anecdote about her childhood. Never again would she rule their people, that position fell to Rowan now. The King.  
"Astrid," Lexa warned again.  
"I'm done," Astrid snapped. She rolled her neck, running a hand through her hair. She stalked to the door, but paused on the threshold.  
"Just so you know," she said, speaking to all of them but still watching the mouthy leader, "I'm going to retrieve justice for this."  
A muscle feathered in Lexa's jaw, though she wisely kept her words to herself.  
Astrid stared her down, "Don't expect me to extend the same courtesy to you when your time comes."  
With that, she turned on her heel and descended the spiral staircase to her room below. Fifteen minutes later, no one stopped her when she slipped out the front gates and into the silent city streets.


	4. Echo

**ECHO  
** The strange young woman had been staying at the camping ground for two days now and had hardly spoken to anyone save for Noki, who had taken one look at her fine night-dark clothes and bent over backwards to accommodate her.  
He gave her he best camping spot- the spot he only offered to patrons he intended to bleed dry- and didn't seem bothered by the heavy hood the young woman wore or the assortment of weapons that gleamed along her long, lean body. Not when she tossed him a gold coin with a casual flick of her gloved fingers. Not when she was wearing an ornate gold brooch with an emerald the size of a robin's egg.

Echo had been watching the young girl from the safety of the trader's post. Watching, if only because the stranger was young and un-accompanied and sat on a tree trunk with such stillness that it was impossible _not_ to look. Not to wonder. Echo hadn't seen her face yet, though she'd caught a glimpse every now and then of a golden braid glinting from the depths of the black hood. She glanced behind her at the stock wall and tried not to wince. She did her best to keep the place tidy, to serve the patrons, most of the merchants or mercenaries who often thought _she_ was up for purchase as well- with a smile. She had been working there for a year now- eleven months longer than she had intended, and the place still sickened her.  
The stranger at the back plot rose from the trunk, and walked to the trading post. She signalled for a small loaf of bread at the back of the cabin, and placed her water canteen on the bench to be refilled.  
Echo did as she was requested politely and quickly.  
The young woman just said, "Thank you." Her voice was low and cool- cultured almost. And completely uninterested in Echo.  
Echo took the opportunity to focus her eyes on the other girl as she raised the canteen to her lips and took a sip. Her hood fell back slightly, and Echo peered into the black depths. Nothing but shadows, a gleam of gold hair, and a hint of pale skin. She had so many questions- so, so many questions. _Who are you? Where do you come from? Where are you going? Can you use all those blades you carry?_

 **ASTRID:  
** Astrid sat back down on her log and wondered how her life had gone to hell so quickly. She hated the road to the wagon-port, hated the reek of trash and filth and the heavy blanket of trees which shrouded the land day and night, hated the second-rate hunters and gatherers and generally miserable people who occupied it.  
No one here knew who she was, or why she'd come, no one knew that the girl beneath the hood was Princess Astrid kom Azgeda. But then again, she didn't want them to know. _Couldn't_ let them know actually.  
She'd been at the despicable hunting ground camp two days now- she would have left if she had any choice, but she was forced to be here, thanks to her brother.

Astrid sat back and watched the post-girl with brown-gold hair slip through the labyrinth of tents and sleeping men, explaining the post was about to close for the night and nimbly dodging any men who tried to grope her. What a waste of swift feet and good balance. This girl wasn't dumb. Astrid had noted the way she watched the camp from the cabin, and its patrons- the way she watched Astrid herself. What personal hell had driven her to work here?  
Astrid didn't particularly care. The questions were mostly to drive the boredom away. She'd already devoured the two books she'd carried with her from Azgeda.  
She fought the urge to touch her face. The swelling from the beating Rowan had given her had gone down, but the bruises remained. She had avoided looking in any reflective surface for a week now, knowing what she'd see: mottled purple and blue and yellow along her cheekbones, a vicious black eye and a still-healing split lip.  
It was a reminder of what Astrid had done in Polis, proof of how she'd "embarrassed her family" as Rowan had put it. She'd made a powerful enemy of Lexa now, and was certain her brother now hated her.

She would be leaving at dawn- to catch a ride to the Deserted land in the South, to make her journey to the Dead Zone and meet the Mute and his Silent Assassins, with whom she was to train with for a month as further punishment for the betrayal of King Rowan.  
Betrayal her ass. All she'd done was defend her deceased mother's honour. But according to her brother she didn't act with any rational thought, and had embarrassed him.  
 _Embarrassed him_!? Like he hadn't acted like an arrogant Prince time upon time in front of important and influential people. Luna the Natblida for example, he hadn't been thinking about their mother at all when he'd insulted her and nearly gotten them both thrown into the sea.  
What did he care if she had upset Lexa?

It made her so angry that she couldn't even think straight. So angry she'd gotten into not one, not two, but three fights in the two weeks that she'd been traveling to the Dead Zone. One of the brawls, at least had been rightfully provoked: a man at a watering-post had cheated at a round of cards, but the other two…

There was no denying it: she'd simply been spoiling for a fight. No blades, no weapons. Just fists and feet. Astrid supposed she should feel bad about it all- about the broken noses and jaws, about the heaps of unconscious bodies in her wake. But she didn't.

She couldn't bring herself to care, because those moments she spent brawling were the few moments she felt like herself again. Even if her opponents were drunks and untrained fighters; even if she should know better.

Astrid noticed her boss watching her, no doubt wondering how he could squeeze even more money out of her purse. There were other men observing Astrid too and she quickly sized them up. Was it fear or luck that had kept them away so far?

She made no secret of the fact she carried money with her. And her clothes and weapons spoke volumes about her wealth too. The emerald brooch she wore practically begged for trouble. Unbeknown to the men around her- she actually wore it to _invite_ trouble. It was a gift from Rowan on her sixteenth birthday; she _hoped_ someone would try and steal it. If they were good enough, she might just let them. So it was only a matter of time really, before one of them tried to rob her.

But she would be gone in the morning. It was so tempting, she could take a ship somewhere else- and start a new live. Somewhere nobody knew who she was. She could leave behind Rowan, the kingdom of Azgeda, and their whole damn empire. There was little stopping her, save for the feeling that her brother would hunt her down no matter how far she went. But the lure of the unknown remained, the wild rage that begged her to cast off the last of Rowan's shackles and sail to a place where she could live freely, her _own_ life. It would be so, so easy.

But even if she decided not to go, she was still left with another night at this awful traveller's camp. Another sleepless night, where she could only hear the roar of anger in her blood as it thrashed inside her.  
If she were smart, if she were level-headed, she would avoid any confrontation tonight and leave in peace, no matter where she went.  
But she was not feeling particularly smart, or level-headed- certainly not once the hours passed and the air in the camp shifted into a hungry, wild thing that howled for blood.

 **ECHO  
** Echo didn't know how or when it happened, but the atmosphere at the camping ground changed. It was as if all the gathering men were waiting for something. The girl with the hood was still sat against the tree, still brooding. But her gloved fingers were tapping on the soft, mossy floor, and every now and then she shifted her hooded head to look around the site.  
Echo couldn't have left even if she'd wanted to. Last call was in another twenty minutes and after that she'd have to clean up and get to her cabin. She didn't care where the drinkers and sleepers went- didn't care if they wound up face down in a watery ditch- as long as they were gone away from her. And stayed gone.

Noki vanished moments ago, either to save his own hide or to do some dark dealings behind the drink hut. Echo kept looking at the hooded girl. So did many of the patrons. Were they waiting for her to get up? There were some thieves that she recognized, thieves who had been circling like vultures for the past few days, trying to figure out whether the strange girl could use the weapons she carried. It was common knowledge that she was leaving at dawn. If they wanted her money, jewellery, weapons or something far darker, tonight would be their last chance. She wanted to warn the other girl, tell her it was better to sneak off tonight before she wound up with a slit throat.

Noki would throw her out of the job though, if he knew she warned her. Especially when many of the cut-throats were beloved friends who often shared their ill-gained profits with him, or spent it on his goods. And she had no doubt he would send those very men after her if she betrayed him. How had she become so adjusted to working with these people?  
She couldn't warn her, daren't. Not with all the big men waiting in the clearing like wolves.

 **ASTRID:  
** Honestly Astrid was a little insulted when none of the men made a grab for her, her money, her emerald brooch or her weapons. She wanted a fight, an adventure. Anything to take her mind off the bruises on her face and the punishment Rowan had given her, and the temptation to shirk her obligations and instead sail to a land far, far away.

 **ECHO  
** Echo lugged the last pail of rubbish to the dump tip behind the ale-cabin, her back and arms aching. Today had been longer than most.  
There hadn't been a fight, thank the gods, but Echo couldn't shake her nerves and the sense of something being _off_. But she was glad- so, so glad there hadn't been a fight. The last thing she wanted to do was spend the rest of the night wiping blood and vomit off the wooden tables and hauling broken furniture to the dump.

There was a crunch of boots on the floor and she spun around.  
Men. From Delfikru. Four of them.  
Echo was running for the ale-cabin in a hearbeat but they were fast-faster.  
One blocked the door while another came up behind her, grabbing her tight and pulling her against his massive body.  
"Scream and I'll slit your throat," he whispered in her ear, his breath hot and reeking of ale.  
Echo didn't know what she would have done next: fought or cried or begged or actually attempted to scream. But she didn't have to decide.

The man farthest away was yanked into the darkness of the forest with a strangled cry.  
The man holding her whirled towards him, dragging Echo along. There was a ruffle of clothing, then a thump. Then silence.  
"Penn?" the man next to the one who held her shouted out.  
Nothing.  
He drew his short sword, and Echo didn't have time to cry out in surprise or warning as a dark figure slipped from the mist and grabbed the man near the door. Not in front but from the side, as if they'd just appeared out of thin air.

The man holding Echo threw her to the ground and drew his sword from across his back, a broad, wicked-looking blade. But his companion didn't even shout. More silence.  
"Come out you bloody coward," he growled, "face us like a proper man."

A low soft laugh.  
"Just like how you proper men surrounded a defenceless girl in the dark?"  
With that, the stranger stepped from the mist. She had a long dagger in each hand, and both blades were dark with dripping blood.

Echo's breath came quickly as the girl stepped closer to the two remaining attackers. The first man who had been holding her barked a laugh, but the other one was wide-eyed. Echo carefully, so carefully backed away.  
" _You_ killed my men?" the man said, blade held aloft.  
The young woman flipped one of her daggers into a position Echo thought would easily allow the blade to go straight up through the ribs and into the heart. "I would hardly call them men," she giggled, actually _giggled_ , "let's just say they got what was coming to them."

The first man lunged, but the girl was waiting. Echo knew she should run- run and run and not look back, but the girl was only armed with two daggers, and the men were enormous, and-

It was over before it had started really. The man got two hits, both men with those dangerous daggers. And then she knocked him out cold with a swift blow to the head. So fast- so unspeakably fast and graceful. A wraith moving through the mist.  
He crumpled into the fog, and Echo whipped her head to the last man between her and the door, but he was already sprinting into the forest as fast as his feet could carry him.  
Echo had half a mind to do that herself, when the stranger emerged from the mist, blades clean but still drawn. Still ready.  
"Please don't kill me," Echo whispered. She was ready to beg, to offer anything in exchange for her life but the young woman just laughed under her breath. "What would have been the point in saving you then?" she asked.

 **ASTRID  
** Astrid hadn't meant to save the barmaid. It had been sheer luck that she'd spotted the four men creeping about in the dark, sheer luck that they'd seemed as eager for trouble as she was. She had stalked them behind the camping ground, ready to hurt the girl in an unforgivable way.  
The fight was over too quickly to be enjoyable or be a balm to her temper. If you could even call it a fight. The fourth one had gotten away, but she didn't feel like chasing him. Not with the girl in front of her shaking from head to toe.

"Thank you," the girl stammered, "I'm sorry."  
"What are you apologising to me for?" Astrid asked curiously, "Why are you apologizing at all? Those men had it coming. But you should have been smarter on a night like this, not to go anywhere alone…"  
"I owe you," the girl said softly, before thinking about what she was about to say carefully. "I have a cabin a short walk away, you can stay with me if you like, save you sleeping on the ground."  
Astrid frowned, "You _live_ alone as well?"  
Echo nodded, "Since my mother passed away."  
The girls' face softened, "Let's go."

They locked up the cabin and walked together through the woods. Echo didn't speak, her hands still shook, so Astrid started the conversation.  
"When did your mother die?"  
After a moment Echo answered, "Eight years ago."  
Astrid nodded before saying out loud slowly, "My mother died not long ago."  
Echo watched her in the darkness. The girl's eyes were like wildfire, then Echo realised they weren't _like_ wildfire, they _were_ wildfire. Deadly and uncontrollable. And slightly out of her wits, possibly due to her mother.

Back at the cabin Astrid got rid of her cloak and stood facing the girl. She didn't know why she'd offered to teach her to defend herself. The last time she'd helped anybody, it just turned around to beat the hell out of her. Literally.

Astrid gripped the girl's waist and held up her hand. "People- men usually- don't hunt for the women who like they'll put up a fight. They'll pick you because you look off guard or vulnerable or like you'll be sympathetic. They'll usually try to move you to another location- somewhere they won't need to worry about being interrupted."  
Echo's eyes were wide, her face pale in the light of the lamp she'd lit inside the cabin. A shudder ran down her back that had nothing to do with the three dead bodies now rotting in the dump heap that she'd help move.

"Do _not_ let them move you to another location," Astrid continued, reciting the lessons Rowan had taught her. She'd learned self-defence from her brother before she ever learned to attack anyone, and to first fight without weapons too.  
"Fight back and convince them that you're not worth it. And make as much noise as you can. In a hovel like this though, I bet no one will bother waking up and coming to help you. But you should start screaming your head off about a fire- not rape, not theft, not something that cowards would rather hide from. And if shouting doesn't discourage them, then there are a few tricks to outsmart them."  
Astrid continued, "Some might make them drop like a stone, some might take them down for a  
second, but as soon as they get off you- you run like hell, understand?"  
Echo nodded, still wide-eyed. She remained that way as Astrid showed her how to shove her thumbs into the corner of someone's eyes and- well... remove them.  
She then showed her how to pinch the inside of a man's upper thigh so hard it would make him scream, where to stomp on the most delicate part of the foot, and then told her to go for the groin- always try to go for a knee to the groin.

And when the moon was setting, when Astrid was convinced that Echo might stand a chance against an assailant, they finally stopped.  
Silence fell between them. There was so much more to learn, so much else to teach her. But dawn was about two hours away and she needed to sleep and leave. Leave not because she was ordered to, or because she found her punishment acceptable, but because she needed to. She needed to go to the Dead Zone.  
Curled up on a thin mat on the floor Astrid finally closed her eyes but Echo cleared her throat, "Did you ever have to use those tricks. Not to pry, I mean, you don't have to answer if-"  
"I've used them yes- but not because I was in _that_ kind of situation. I…" she paused, knowing she shouldn't say anything but she did. "I'm usually the one who does the hunting."  
Echo just nodded sadly, before there was a loud thud- and the door of her cabin flew open.

 **ECHO  
** Three men were on top of them before they knew what had hit them. Astrid tried to leap to her feet but she was pinned down- a flash of silver from under the mattress flew into the throat of the man and he rolled off her with a mouthful of blood.  
Echo was dragged out of her bed. The man from earlier in the night held a knife to her throat but all she could do was watch Astrid.  
Gods she moved like a black wind, such lethal grace and-  
A hand over her mouth covered the scream she did not know she had been letting out.  
"Put down your weapons or I'll-" the rough voice came from her ear but it was too late. Astrid had tackled him to his feet and plunged her knife into his ribcage.  
She turned and faced the last assailant.

"Drop your weapons," the man said.  
Calm- utterly calm and cold as she bared her teeth into a feral grin Astrid replied, "Come and get them."  
Echo's stomach dropped. The man had only to shift his wrist and he'd spill her life's blood. She wasn't ready to die- not now, not here.  
Her captor chuckled, "Bold and foolish words, girl. You've killed my friends- now I'm going to kill yours."  
Echo winced, she felt the dampness of her blood before she realised he'd cut a thin line across her neck.  
But Astrid's eyes were on her, and they narrowed slightly. In challenge. In command. _Fight back_ she seemed to say. _Fight for your miserable life._  
The two men with the swords circled closer, but she didn't lower blade.  
"Drop them before I cut her open," Echo's captor growled. "Once I'm done making you pay for my friends, for all the money you've cost me with their deaths, maybe we'll let her _live_." The man hissed, " _Drop your weapons."_  
She didn't.  
Gods, she was going to let him kill her, wasn't she?  
Echo couldn't die like this- not here, not as a non-name barmaid in this horrible place. Her mother had gone down swinging, her mother had _fought_ for her, had killed that soldier so she could have a chance to flee, to make something of her life. To do some good for the world.  
She wouldn't die like this.  
The rage hit, so staggering that Echo could hardly see through it, could hardly see anything except a year in the camping-ground, a future beyond her grasp and a life she was not ready to part with.  
She gave no warning before she stomped down as hard as she could on the bridge of the man's foot. He jerked, howling as Echo brought up her arms, shoving the dagger from her throat with one hand as she drove her elbow into his gut. Drove it with every bit of rage she had burning in her. He groaned as she he doubled over, and she slammed her elbow into his temple, just as the girl had shown her.  
The man collapsed to his knees, and Echo bolted. To flee, to get help, she didn't know. But Astrid was already grinning broadly, the two men lay unmoving, and the man on his knees-  
Echo dodged to the side as the young woman dragged him into the dark mist beyond. There was a muffled scream and then a thump.

She staggered to the doorway of her cabin and barely made it two steps outside before she vomited. When she was done, she found the young woman watching her again, smiling faintly.  
"Fast learner," she said with a smile.  
Echo wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. "You could have dispatched them without me! But you let that man hold a knife to my throat- _you let him!_ Are you insane?"  
The girl smirked in such a way that said yes, she was most certainly insane. But she said, "You can do it- that man was twice your weight and you downed him in a few heartbeats."

 **ASTRID  
** Washed and dressed, Astrid boarded the ride an hour before dawn. She felt hollow and lightheaded after only an hours rest, but it was her own damn fault. Besides, the companion she had picked up along the way would be able to watch over her while she slept on the wagon.  
Echo had been easily convinced to leave with her. After all, her boss wouldn't be best pleased with the bodies in the morning- and she had no alternative.  
She should sleep, because once they arrived at the Wastes- she would be parting with Echo, and trekking across the blistering and deadly sands- a week at least, through the desert before she reached the Mute Master.

The journey passed quicker than she would have liked, but when they finally arrived at the Wastes. A dirty market town was where Astrid assured her she would be able to get a boat North, to walk to the snow and then to Azgeda. She should demand to speak to Ress Kastur, King Rowan's associate- and should anyone stop her she should show them her new tricks.  
Once with Ress, Echo should show him the new emerald brooch that Astrid had gifted her and told her to keep deep in her pocket until that moment.

They parted with a small hug, and it was many years later that Echo saw the young woman who would one day be her Queen.


	5. The Red Keep Part 1

**The Red Keep [1/3]**

There was nothing left in the world except wind and sand, Astrid deduced as she stood atop the golden dune and stared blankly across the desert. Even with the wind, the heat was stifling, and sweat made her clothing cling to her body. But sweating, her brother had told her once, was a good thing. It was when you didn't sweat that was deadly. Sweat reminded you to drink.

Oh the miserable heat. It invaded every part of her, making her head throb and her bones ache. The muggy warmth of the forest camp had been nothing compare to this. What she wouldn't give a millisecond of breeze.

The Silent Assassins of the Red Wastes – that is where she had been sent to train. 'To learn obedience and discipline,' Rowan had said. _In the height of summer in the Dead Zone_ was what he'd failed to add. It was a punishment.  
Two months ago, when she'd been sent to Polis to meet with the Commander she had had discovered that her mother had been ambushed, and Astrid had held Lexa responsible. Deciding to damn the consequences, she'd insulted Lexa, and her newly crowned brother had decided to remove his unruly sister from the equation.  
As punishments went, this was probably the worst, and given the bruises and cuts that were healing on her face after Rowan had bestowed them, that was saying something.

Astrid scowled, she pulled her scarf a bit higher over her mouth and nose and took a step down the dune. Her legs strained against the sliding sand, but it was a welcome greedom after the harrowing trek through the singing sands of the Dead Zone, where each grain had hummed and whined and moaned. She spent a whole day monitoring each step, carefully to keep the sand beneath her in harmony, or else- she knew from Ress Kastur's stories, she could have quickly been swallowed by quick-sand.

Astrid descended the dune and sighed, two miles South. Two miles then they would find her. She began to walk, she had to start now, or else she'd need to set up her tent to sleep out in the unforgiving mid-day and afternoon heat.  
Two miles, how long could that take?

Hours later, Astrid found herself using all of her self-restraint to avoid leaping into the courtyard pools, or kneeling to drink at one of the rivers running along the floor.  
No one had offered her water upon her arrival, and she didn't think her current escort was inclined to do so either as he led her through the winding halls of the Red Keep.

Two miles had felt more like twenty. She had been just about to stop and make camp when she'd crested a dune and there was a large figure waiting for her between two more monstrous sand dunes.  
After their silent walk together, she was parched, but she tried to keep her senses alter as they walked father into the fortress- taking in exits and windows, noting where sentries were stationed. They passed a row of open-air training rooms in which she could see people from all clans and of all ages sparring or exercising or jut sitting quietly, lost in meditation. They climbed a narrow flight of stairs that went up and up into a large building.

For a fortress of supposedly silent assassins, the place was noisy, with the clatter of weapons from the training rooms, the buzzing of insects in the many trees and bushes, the chatter of birds, the gurgle of all the crystal-clear water running through every room and hall.  
They approached an open set of doors at the end of the hallway. Her escort- a middle aged man flecked with scars that stood out like chalk against his tan skin- said nothing to her. Beyond the doors, they entered a giant chamber flanked by blue-painted wooden pillars that supported a mezzanine on either side. A glance into the darkness of the balcony informed her that there were figures lurking there- watching, waiting. There were more in the shadow of the columns. Whoever they thought she was, they certainly weren't underestimating her. Good.

A narrow mosaic of green and blue tiles wove through the floor towards the dais, echoing the little rivers on the lower level. Atop the dais, seating among cushions and potted palms, was a white robed man.  
The Master. She had expected him to be ancient, but he seemed to be around fifty. She kept her chin held high as they approached him, following the tile path in the floor. He smiled at her slightly and sweat oozed down Astrid's spine. Though the Master had no visible weapons, the two servants fanning him with palm leaves were armed to the teeth. Her escort stopped a safe distance from the Master and bowed.

Astrid did the same, and when she raised herself, she removed the hood from over her hair. She was sure it was a mess after two weeks in the desert with not water to bathe in, but she wasn't here to impress him with her beauty.  
The Master looked her up and down and then nodded. Her escort nudged her with his elbow, and Astrid held back a scowl with his name on it. She cleared her dry throat and stepped forward.

She knew the Master wouldn't say anything: his self-imposed silence was legendary. It was incumbent upon her to make the introduction. Rowan had told her exactly what to say- _ordered her_ was more like it. The orders had been clear.  
She had a month to win the Master's respect. And if she didn't return home with his letter of approval she better find a new home.

"Thank you for granting me an audience, Master of the assassins," she said, silently cursing the stiffness of her voice.  
She put a hand over her heart and dropped to both knees, "I am Astrid Kom Azgeda, my King has sent me here to beseech you to train me," she said, chafing at the words.

Nothing.

Warmth worse than the heat of the desert singed her cheeks. She kept her head down, her arms dropping to her sides. Cloth rustled, then near-silent steps echoed through the chamber. At last, two bare, brown feet stopped before her.  
A dry finger tilted her chin up, and Astrid found herself staring into the sea-green eyes of the Master. She didn't dare move. With one movement, the Master could snap her neck. This was a test- a test of trust, or nerve, or both- she realized.

She willed herself into stillness, focusing on the details of his face to avoid thinking about how vulnerable she was.  
She braced herself as his long fingers pushed back the loose strands of her braided hair, revealing the yellowing bruises still lingering around her eyes and cheeks, and the narrow arc of the scab along her cheekbone.  
Had Rowan even sent words that she was coming? Had he told him the circumstances under which she'd been packed off? The Master didn't seem surprised by her arrival.  
But, his eyes narrowed, his lips forming a tight line as he looked at the remnants of the beating on her face. She was lucky, she knew, that Rowan was skilled enough to keep his blows from permanently marring her.  
She calmed her thundering heart as the Master released her face and stepped back. He motioned for her to rise, which she did, to the relief of her aching knees.  
The Master gave her a crooked smile. She would have echoed the expression- but an instant later he snapped his fingers, triggering four men to charge out of the darkness and directly at her.

They didn't have weapons, but their intent was clear enough. The first man to reach her, clad in the loose, layered clothing that everyone but her wore, went to grab her head, but she dodged the sweeping blow aimed at her face. His arm shot past her and she grabbed it by the wrist and bicep, locking and twisting his arm so that he grunted with pain. She whirled him round, careening him into the second attacker hard enough that two men went tumbling to the ground.  
Astrid leapt back, landing where her escort had been standing only two seconds before, careful to avoid crashing into the Master. This was another test – a test to see at what level she might begin her training, if she was even worthy of it.

Of course she was worthy.

The third man pulled out two crescent-shaped daggers from the folds of his beige tunic and slashed at her. Her layers prevented her from darting away fast enough, so as he swiped for her face, she bent back- spine straining. The blades passed overhead, slicing the air and Astrid dropped to the ground, slashing out with a leg and sweeping the man off his feet.  
The fourth man though, he had come up behind her, a curved blade flashing in his hand as he made to plunge it through her head. She rolled, and the blade struck stone, sparking.  
By the time she'd got to her feet, he'd raised it again. She caught his feint to the left before he struck at her right, and she danced aside. The man was still swinging when she drove the base of her palm straight into his nose and slammed her other fist into his gut. The man dropped to the floor with blood gushing from his nose. She panted, the air ragged in her already burning throat. She really _really_ need water.

None of the men on the ground moved. The Master finally gave her a genuine smile, and it was then that the others gathered around the chamber stepped closer to the light. Men and women, all tan, though their hair showed the range of the various clans who'd gathered there. Astrid inclined her head, but none of them nodded back. Astrid kept one eye on the men before her as they got to their feet, shealthed their weapons and stalked back to the shadows. She couldn't help but let a Cheshire grin spread over her face, she hoped they wouldn't take it personally.

She scanned the shadows again, bracing herself for more assailants. Nearby, a young woman watched her, and she flashed Astrid a conspirator's grin. Astrid tried not to look to interested, though the girl was one of the most stunning people she'd ever seen. It wasn't just her wine-red hair or the colour of her eyes, a red-brown Astrid had never seen before. No, it was the girl's armour that had her interest; ornate to the point of being useless, but still a work of art.

Still, despite the decoration, there was a strange, boyish carelessness to the other girl. Astrid couldn't help but wonder how it was possible not to be cooking to death inside all that armour.

With a cup of water in his hands, the Master clapped Astrid on the shoulder and beckoned the other girl to come forward. Not to attack, this time a friendly invitation. The girl's amour clinked as it moved, but her boots were near-silent.  
The Master used his hands to form a series of motion between the girl and Astrid. The girl bowed low, then gave her that wicked grin again. While they communicated she gulped the liquid down, relishing the sensation of it passing down her dry throat.

"I'm Maggen," she said, voice bright and amused. She had a barely perceptaile lilt to her accent that Astrid couldn't place, "looks like we're sharing a room while you're here."

The Master gestured again, his calloused, scarred finger creating rudimentary gestures that Meggen could somehow decipher. She interpreted, "How long will that be exactly?"  
Astrid fought her frown, "One month," she inclined her head to the Master, "if you allow me to stay that long."  
With the two weeks that it took to get here, and the same time it would take to get home, she'd been away from Azgeda for two months. She couldn't help but feel sick at the chaos her brother might reap in that time without her or her mother to keep him in line.  
The Master merely nodded and walked back to the cushions atop the dais.  
"That means you can stay," Meggan whispered, and then touched Astrid's shoulder with her armor-clad hand. Apparently not all of the assasins here were under a vow of silence- or had a sense of personal space.  
"You'll start training tomorrow," Meggan went on, "at dawn."  
The Master sank onto the cushions and Astrid almost sagged with relief. Rowan had made her think that convincing him to train her would be nearly impossible.  
Fool.  
To pack her off to the desert to suffer? As if.

"Thank you," Astrid said to the Master, keenly aware of the eyes watching her in the hall as she bowed again. He waved her away.  
"Come," her new escort said, her hair shimmering in a ray of sunlight. "I suppose you want a bath before anything else. I certainly would, if I were you." Meggan gave her a smile that stretched the splattering of freckles across the bridge of her nose and cheeks.  
Astrid glanced sidelong at the girl and her ornate outfit and followed her from the room.

As they walked together, Astrid was keenly aware of the absence of the long daggers she usually sheathed in her belt. They'd been taken from her as she'd arrived at the Keep, along with her sword and her pack. She left her hands dangle at her sides, ready to react at the slightest movement from Meggan. Whether or not the other girl noticed Astrid's readiness to fight, she swung her arms casually, her armour clanking with the movement.

"So," Meggan said, brows rising, "Princess Astrid kom Azgeda?"  
"Yes?"  
Meggan shrugged, or at least as well as she could have given her outfit, "I thought you'd be more… dramatic."  
"Sorry to disappoint," Astrid said in a voice that wasn't sorry at all, following the girl as she steered them up a short staircase and then down a long hall.  
"How long have you been here?" Astrid asked, an attempt at chat.  
"I'd barely turned thirteen when I arrived," Meggan replied before looking Astrid up and down. "I'm eighteen now, you look about my age?"  
Astrid nodded, at least she had started her training at seven, she had years on Meggan, that had to count for something if she tried anything funny.  
"Has training with the Master been effective?" she wondered.  
Meggan gave her a rueful smile. "I wouldn't know," she said gently, "I've been here for five years and he's still refused to train me personally. Not that I care. I'd say I'm pretty good with or without his expertise."

Astrid hid her frown again, well that was certainly odd.  
How had she gone so long without working with the Master.  
"You'll get to train with him tomorrow," Meggan said calmly, "so you must be something special."  
They entered an open walkway, the heat of the mid-afternoon sun slamming into them with full force. Yet Meggan's face remained jovial, and if the armour did make her uncomfortable she didn't show it.  
Meggan looked her up and down again, "How many people have you killed?"  
Astrid almost choked, but kept her chin high, "I don't see how that is any of your concern."  
"So which of you looks worse," she continued, undeterred by Astrid's defensive tone, "you, or the person who gave those to you?"  
She didn't indicate, but Astrid knew she meant the fading bruises on her face. Her stomach tightened, it was getting to be a familiar feeling and she didn't like it one little bit.  
"Me," Astrid said quietly.  
She didn't know why she admitted it. Bravado might have been the better option, but she was tired and suddenly so heavy with the weight of that memory.

"The baths," Meggan smiled, pushing a door open and revealing a large room, "it's one of the places were silence is actually enforced so try to keep quiet. Take your time, I'll see that your things are brought to your room. When you're done ask one of the little ones to take you there. Dinner isn't for a few hours, I'll come by the room then."

Astrid gave her a long look, the idea of Meggan – or anyone- handling the weapons and gear she'd left at the gate wasn't appealing. Not that she had anything to hide- though she cringed inwardly at the though of the guards pawing at her clothing as they searched for her bag. Her taste for very expensive and delicate underwear wouldn't do much for her reputation.  
But she was hear at their mercy, and a letter of approval depended on her good behaviour, and good attitude.  
So Astrid merely said, "Thank you," before striding past Meggan and into the herb-scented air beyond the doors.

While communal, the baths were thankfully separated between men and women. Hidden by towering palms and date trees sagging with the weight of their fruit, the baths were made from the same green and cobalt tiles that had formed the mosaic in the Master's chamber. There were multiple large pools, some seamed, some bubbled, some steamed _and_ bubbled- but the one Astrid slipped into was utterly calm and clear and cold.

She stifled a groan as she submerged herself and stayed under until her lungs ached. While modesty was a trait she'd learned to live without, she still kept herself low in the water. Of course, it had nothing to do with the fact that her ribs and arms were peppered with fading bruises, and that they sight of them made her sick. Sometimes it was sick with anger; other times it was sorrow. Often, it was both. She wanted to go back to Azgeda- to resume the life that had splintered in a few agonizing minutes. But she also dreaded it.  
At least here at the edge of the world, the night of her brother's beating- and all of Azgeda- seemed very far away.

She stayed in the pool until her hands turned uncomfortably pruny.


	6. The Red Keep Part 2

**The Red Keep [2/3]**

At dinner, Astrid felt someone's attention on her, and tried not to blink when she noticed a dark-haired, handsome young man watching her from a few seats down. Stealing glances was more like it, since his sea-green eyes kept darting to her face, then back to his companions. He didn't open his mouth once to speak, instead pantomimed to his friends. Great, Astrid sighed, another silent person.

Their eyes met, and his tan face seemed to spread into a smile, revealing dazingly white teeth. Well, he was certainly desirable, and as he inclined his head slightly in greeting, she returned it, before Meggan snapped her attention up again.  
"I'm surprised you've caught Arsenii's eyes," she teased, keeping her voice low enough for only Astrid to hear, "he's usually so focused on his training and meditation to notice anyone- even pretty girls."  
"He's the Master's son" she added, before taking a forkful of food off Astrid's place.  
"Maybe he has a thing for blondes," she added teasingly, before Astrid bit back a retort that she didn't want to know or particularly care for this discussion.  
She couldn't help but feel flattered though, that he even considered her worthy of a second thought; she had avoided looking in the mirror in the weeks since that night with Rowan, only checking to ensure that nothing was broken or out of place.

"So," Meggan said, shattering her thoughts as she pointed her fork at Astrid's face, "when your brother beat the living daylights out of you, did you actually deserve it?"  
Astrid shot her a dark look and straightened her back, someone had obviously dug up some gossip while she'd been in the bath.  
She stared back at her, "I suppose it depends on who is telling the story."  
Meggan chuckled.  
"If Rowan is telling the story, then yes, I suppose I deserved it. I cost him a great deal of resepect and money lost of Azgedan soldiers. I was disobiedient and disrespectful, and completely remorseless about what I did," Astrid didn't break her stare and Meggan's smile faltered.  
"But, if my mother, who was betrayed by her Commander and slaughtered by her soldiers, was telling the story then no, I suppose I didn't deserve it."  
Meggan was no longer smiling, and Astrid noticed that the entirety of the dining hall had all gone silent and their eyes were on her, to her dismay.  
She supposed a lot of the people here were loyal to Lexa, some may even have been sent by her, and it was silent for a few heartbeats before Meggan muttered, "Holy Gods."  
Astrid finished her plate and then dismissed herself to bed. She didn't feel like talking anymore after that.

Laid in the dark, Astrid stared at the ceiling of her room, Meggan snoring softly beside her. Astrid shoved her head under her pillow and nestled father into the sheets. Through the small window, the silence of the fortress lulled her to sleep.

 _She'd never seen Rowan so angry and it was scaring the hell out of her. He didn't yell and he didn't curse- he just went very still and very quiet. The only sign of his rage were his eyes- silver to Astrid'd gold- glittering with a deadly calm.  
She tried not to flinch in her chair as he stood from the giant wooden desk, formerly their mothers.  
She sucked in a breath, she couldn't speak; if she started talking her trembling voice would betreay her and she couldn't endure that kind of humiliation._

 _"_ _Do you know what you've cost me?" he asked her softly.  
Astrid's palms began sweating. _It was worth it _she told herself. No matter what was about to happen she had sought justice for her mother's death. She'd never regret doing that.  
"Leave us," Rowan ordered the only other person in the room, his right-hand Ress Kastur. Ress didn't even look at her as he followed her brother's instructions and stalked past her.  
She had turned to watch him leave, and sensed the blow only a heartbeat before Rowan struck her.  
She toppled out of the chair and didn't have time to raise herself properly before he grabbed her by her collar and swung again, his fist connecting with her cheek. Light and darkness reeled. Another blow, hard enough that she felt the warmth of blood on her face before she felt the pain.  
She opened her mouth to scream again, but he struck her- harder still. She tasted blood yet she didn't fight back, she didn't dare to.  
Rowan hit her repeatedly- her ribs, her jaw, her gut. And her face, again and again and again. Careful blows- blows meant to inflict as much pain as possible without doing permanent damage, and she whimpered words that she couldn't even hear over the agony._

 _The last thing she remembered was a pang of guilt at the sight of her blood staining her mother's exquisite blue carpet. And then darkness, blissful darkness, full of relief that she wasn't dead._

The following morning at dawn, she followed a guide up to the roof of the fortress and she saw the Master stood by the parapet, gazing across the desert. She cleared her throat, but he remained with his back to her.  
The roof couldn't have been more than twenty square feet, and the only thing on it was a covered reed basket placed in the center.  
Astrid cleared her throat again and the Master turned. She bowed, and he gave her a nod and pointed to the basket, beckoning that she should open the lid.

Doing her best not to look sceptical, hoping there was a beautiful new weapon inside, she approached, but stopped suddenly when she heard the hissing.  
Unpleasant, don't-come-any-closer hissing, from inside the basket.  
She turned to the Master, who sat down on the edge of the rooftop, his bare feet dangling and he nodded insistently to her.  
Palms sweating, Astrid took a deep breath and snatched back the lid.

A black asp curled into itself, head drawn back low as it hissed.  
Astrid leapt back, making for the wall, but the Master let out a low click of his tongue. His hands moved, flowing and winding through the air like a river – like a snake. _Observe it_ he seemed to tell her, _move with it.  
_ She looked back at the basket in time to see the slender, black head of the asp slide over the rim, then down to the tiled roof.

Her heart thundered in her chest. It was poisonous, it had to be. It certainly looked it. The snake slithered across the rood, and Astrid inched back from it, not daring to look away for even a second. She reached for a dagger, but again the Master clicked his tongue. A glance in his direction was enough for her to understand. _Don't kill it. Absorb it._  
The creature moved effortlessly, lazily, and tasted the morning air with it's black tongue. With a deep, steadying breath, Astrid observed.

She spent every morning that week on the roof with that bloody asp, watching it, copying it's movements, internalizing its rhythm and sounds until she could move like it moved, until they could face each other and she could anticipate how it would lunge; until she could strike like the asp, swift and unflinching.  
After that, she spent three nights dangling from the rafters of the fortress stables with the bats. It took her longer to figure out their strengths, how they became so silent that no one noticed they were there, how they could drown out the external noise and focus only on the sound of their pretty. And after that, it was two nights with the jackrabbits on the dunes, learning their stillness, their speed and dexterity they used to avoid talons and claws, how they slept above ground to better hear their enemies approaching. Each time, the Master watched from nearby, never saying a word, never doing anything except occasionally pointing out how an animal moved.

She grew closer to Meggan too, with whom she trained before and after her time with the Master.  
"You mean to tell me that you do this _every_ day at home?" Meggan said, her brows high on her forehead as Astrid brushed some rouge across the girl's cheeks.  
"Sometimes twice a day," Astrid grinned, and Meggan opened her lips in shock, "I am a princess after all."  
They were sitting on Astrid's bed, a scattering of cosmetics between them- a fraction of Astrid's enormous collection back in Azgeda, "Besides it's fun."  
"Fun?" Meggan opened her eyes, "smearing all this gunk on your face is fun?"  
Astrid set down the small pot of rouge and grinned, "If you don't shut up I'll draw a mustache on you."  
Meggan poked out her tongue and Astrid chuckled before dabbing at the girl's eyelids.  
"Well it's my birthday," Meggan stated, "we so rarely get to have fun, I suppose I should look nice."  
Meggan always looked nice- better than nice actually- but Astrid didn't tell her that.  
"Alright," Astrid said, sitting back so that she could see, "open your eyes."  
Meggan opened them obiediently and Astrid frowned.  
"What?" Meggan asked.  
Astrid shook her head, "You're going to have to wash it all off."  
"Why!?"  
"Because you look better than I do."  
Meggan pinched Astrid's arm, Astrid pinched hers back, laughter on her lips. But then the single remaining week that Astrid had left loomed before her, brief and unforgiving, and her chest tightened at the thought of leaving.  
She hadn't dared asked for the Master's letter yet. But more than that… she'd never had a female friend- never really had _any_ proper friends- and somehow the thought of returning to Azgeda without Meggan was a tad unbearable.


	7. The Red Keep Part 3

**The Red Keep [3/3]**

Though Astrid loved parties, she would have rather spent the night training with the Master. With only one week left, she wanted to spend every waking moment working with him. She sloshed the wine around in her glass, and watched Meggan dance with one of the trainers, whom Astrid knew Meggan liked to spend _a lot_ of time with when Astrid was with the Master. The man- Galus, was a head trainer for the assassins, a little older than them, and he truly liked Meggan. He always found excuses to touch her, always smiled at her, always looked at Meggan like she were the only person in the room.

If Astrid were being honest, she had always thought that Ress Kastur looked at her like that, but then he'd say something to undermine her, or trot along after her brother, and Astrid would scold herself for even entertaining the thought.  
Her stomach tightened, recalling the way he'd just walked out of the room the night her brother punished her. She knew deep down that Kastur would have been punished by Rowan also- he was supposed to be her guide to Polis, to keep her in check.

Astrid drained the rest of her wine and someone touched her shoulder. She looked up to see Arsenii standing behind her. She hadn't seen much of him, aside from at dinner, where he'd still glanced at her and given her a few lovely smiles. He offered his hand.  
Astrid's face warmed and she shook her head, "I don't know these dances…"  
He shrugged, as silent as his father, and his hand remained extended. He raised his brows, _live a little_ , they seemed to say. Astrid gave a dramatic shrug and took his hand, tossing a small smile his way.

Even though she didn't understand the rhythm of the music, or the words that were being sung, Arsenii led her through the dances with ease, each of his movements sure and steady. It was hard to look away- not just from his face, but also from the contentment that radiated from him, and he looked at her so intently she had to wonder why. They danced until well after midnight; wild dances that weren't at all like the waltzes she'd learned in Azgeda. It was lovely and strange, and Astrid wondered as the hours passed that she hadn't strayed into some kind of dream.

When she eventually pulled herself away from the dance-floor, feet hurting, she smiled thankfully at him, and shook her head when he motioned with his arm that he might accompany her. What would he say- that is if he could speak- that the Princess of Azgeda had never been kissed? She'd killed men, but still never kissed anyone. It was ridiculous somehow, something that she should have gotten out of the way at some point, but she'd never been comfortable enough with the right person.

The following morning, when Meggan joined her in their dormitory, she was flushed and looked as though she had spent the night with her companion.  
Meggan shot her a fierce glance as she entered the room and Astrid couldn't help but grin at her, "What? I wasn't going to say anything…"  
"Good," Megan replied, "I got enough of it from the others while I was walking back here."  
Astrid rolled her shoulders and sat up in her bed, "I'm sure Galus will get his fair share of teasing too…"  
"No," Meggan barked back, her eyes surprisingly dark, "he won't. They'll congratulate him for a conquest well made."  
"Well, it he worth the teasing?" Astrid asked, reaching her arms up to stretch.  
"He's an amazing person, and as for a warrior he's taught me far more than I would have learned without him. So they can tease me all they want, but at the end of the day he's the one giving me the extra attention when we train."  
This didn't sit well with Astrid, but she chose to keep her mouth shut. She instead stepped out of bed and headed to the water to splash her face awake.  
"Besides," Meggan said, glancing sidelong at Astrid, "not all of us can so easily convince the Master to train us."  
Astrid stomach twisted a little, was Meggan jealous of that?  
Meggan spoke again, sharper than Astrid had ever heard her, "Oh! The noble, clever, beautiful, royal princess from the North has nothing to say?"  
Astrid's throat tightened, and she cursed herself for feeling so hurt by the words.

After a long afternoon of training with the Master, Astrid was exhausted, emotionally more than physically. Meggan's gripe with her had taken it's toll, and she wished that they could take back what had happened. When she went to their dorm to change before supper, Meggan was there with a glass of wine in hand and a sorry look on her face.  
"I'm sorry for this morning," Meggan said, glancing at the door as if she expected someone else to be here, "I have lots of friends here, but I consider you a _true_ friend, and I'll be sorry to see you go."  
"I still have five days," Astrid said, surprised at the gesture as she took the wine from Meggan's hand. Given how popular Meggan was, it was a little relief to know that she felt connected to their friendship too.  
Meggan flicked her eyes to the door again, what was she nervous about?  
"Try to remember me fondly won't you?" she asked.  
Astrid chuckled, "I'll try."  
They raised their glasses, and as Astrid took (what she thought) were two well deserved gulps, she had too thoughts.  
The first was that Meggan's eyes had turned the same black as they had been when she'd snapped at her that morning. And the second- which explained the first- was that the wine tasted odd.  
But Astrid didn't have time to consider what kind of poison it was before she heard her own goblet clatter to the floor, and the world spun once and went black.

Astrid felt as though a nail were being driven into her head, as she blinked her eyes open. She was tied up on the roof of the fortress, where she trained with the Master, and could see the chaos spreading before her. They were under attack, fires burned everywhere and shouts rang out, along with the clashing of weapons.  
"Wakey wakey Princess," Meggan's voice purred out of the darkness, her eyes narrowed at Astrid.  
"Wha-what's going on?" Astrid murmured, tugging gently at her hands to see if the ropes were able to be easily slipped, but Meggan knew what she was doing- she had made sure that Astrid's hands wouldn't be accessible to her for this fight. Astrid also noticed the long pair of daggers that were sheathed to Meggan's side, _her daggers_ , Astrid couldn't believe the audacity.  
"You really thought you would be able to walk in here, with a pass from your barbarian brother to train with the Master, and then walk away scott-free?" Meggan chuckled, as though she found the idea exceedingly humorous.  
"What do you mean?" Astrid strained against the ropes again, the material burning her wrists, though she knew if she could get free, she could have the rope around Meggan's neck in a heartbeat.  
With a loud thump, the door to the rooftop opened, and Galus stood staring at the pair.  
"It's going well," he smiled broadly at Meggan, "soon we'll have a way out of here and we can take her to a safer location."  
"Take me?" Astrid snorted, tilting her head to the side and regarding the trainer as though he were an imbecile, "you won't be _taking_ me anywhere."  
"Actually, you are wrong," Galus retorted, "a message has already been sent to your brother asking for ten thousand jewels in ransom, you're not my first hostage."  
"And you're not the first arrogant ass I've seen ruin a deal," Astrid snapped back, "you've already admitted that you have no idea what you're doing by only asking for ten thousand."  
He blinked at her and she knew that the ropes were not going to give, and so she supposed she had to delay the situations as much as she could.  
"You think that's what I'm worth?" she laughed loudly, noticing the scowl on Meggan's face and the calculations in the trainers eyes, "that's nothing to my brother. The daggers that you've _borrowed_ for example, cost five thousand _each_ … frankly I'm insulted…"  
"Stop talking!" Meggan shouted in reply, but Astrid was now on a roll, and the voice which her brother had warned her would get her into trouble so many times was now on full power.  
"I can tell none of this was your idea," Astrid chuckled, gazing at Meggan as though _she_ were the one tried to a chair in the middle of the freezing desert night, "nobody looks at you and thinks you're clever enough to come up with something like this…. but you do seem like you'd do anything for a bit of male attention…"  
Meggan lunged at her, only held back by the man, "Let me go Galus!" she cried.  
"You know," Astrid continued baiting, "the doe-eyed, insecure, needs-help-with-her-training type…"  
Meggan's face was seething, as Galus stared between the pair of them, as though he actually _wanted_ to let Meggan go and see them fight. He licked his lips and loosened his grip on Meggan, who took half a step forward before he grasped her again.  
"We're partners!" Meggan screeched, indicating to herself and Galus.  
"Sure," Astrid goaded, "but he calls the shots, from what I see."  
"Oh because you're such an independent little _Princess,"_ was the reply she got, "what about the men in your life?"  
"Where are you pulling that from," Astrid retorted, "I answer to no man."  
"Except your brother," Meggan managed to steady herself, sensing she had the upper hand on Astrid and calming enough so that Galus released her gently, "or did you forget that _he's_ the reason you were sent here with a busted face in the first place?!"  
"What he did to me is going to look like one of our make-up sessions compared to what he will do to you when he finds out about this half-arsed plan," Astrid laughed in her face, "if he even bothers- now that you've asked for such a _pitiful_ amount, I'm sure he'll think it all one big joke."  
The final straw that broke Meggan landed and she lunged at Astrid, aiming to grab her by her hair.

At that moment, Astrid threw herself back in the chair, the weight of the girls combined enough to snap the back and allow Astrid to wriggle her still bound hands free before Galus and Meggan had even known what was happening.  
"You bitch!" Meggan shouted, but Astrid had already grabbed a piece of the broken chair and slammed it into Meggan's thigh. She let out a cry, and Astrid used the opportunity to seize one of her daggers. But now Galus was running at her, Astrid backed as quickly as she could towards the edge of the rooftop, using the blade to unbind her hands and then pointed the dagger at his face.  
"How many of you are working together to get a share of this _ten thousand jewels?"_ Astrid asked, still able to hear the commotion between the assassins loyal to the Master who must be fighting Galus' own small recruits.  
"Enough to get three out of here and to a safer location," he snarled.  
"Please call them off," Astrid asked, her dagger lowering to his chest. _Please don't make me kill you_ , was what she truly meant to say.  
As Galus lunged at her, the door to the rooftop flew open again, and the Master and Arsenii stood, watching the pair. Astrid side-stepped, like a snake. Galus was fast, but she had to be faster, one strike was all it would take, just like the asp.

"You want to know what the Master taught me during all those lessons?" she asked to Meggan, who was pulled to her feet and disarmed by the Master himself.  
"This," Astrid twisted, slamming her shoulder into Galus' torso. They collided with a jarring thud, and while Galus' weapon cut into Astrid's neck she twisted so that he were near the edge of the rooftop. He lost his balance and teetered back, and Astrid hit his finger with her dagger so hard his sword dropped to the ground.  
In a flash, like a snake turning in on itself, Astrid pinned Galus face down on the roof, his face hanging over the edge so that he was looking down on his own recuits surrendering to the assassins. Astrid pressed her dagger into the back of his neck now.

She hadn't realised how silent the fortress was until she was kneeling there, one knee holding Galus down and the other braced on the floor. Blood seeped from where her dagger tip rested on Galus' tanned neck, and Astrid pushed harder until he sucked in a breath, closing his eyes. Astrid remembered to breath as a familiar hand fell on her shoulder, though this time it was bloodied from combat. Arsenii and a group of assassins surrounded them and chained Galus' hands together, tugging him away to the cells beneath the fortress with Meggan.

Still silent, Arsenii took her hand and led her to his chamber. They set each other's wounds and he stroked her wrists, now bruised from the rope. Astrid blinked at his gentle face and reached up to touch his own bruises, but they never kissed. Astrid did not mind the silence, but soon there was a knock on the door and a call that the Master would see her. Arsenii gave her shoulder a soft pat, and stared as she left.

Astrid entered his chamber, and sat down when motioned on an ornately carved wooden chare, watching the Master as he stared out of the window at the sky. She nearly fell on her face when he began talking.  
"I am glad you did not kill either of them," he stated, his voice raw and accent thick with the rolling sounds of a language she had never heard before, "I have been wondering when they would both decide their fate."  
He walked to a latch-work cupboard and pulled from it a letter. By the time he turned to her, Astrid managed a small smile.  
"When you give this to your brother, hold you head high."  
She took the letter, her recommendation. She couldn't help herself but to ask, "How is it that you are speaking to me now? I thought your vow of silence was eternal?"  
"As far as I recall I've never taken a vow of silence, though the world seems to think so," he chuckled, "and there are some times when words are necessary."  
She nodded, trying her best to hide her surprise when he added, "Also tell your brother that in the Red Desert, we do not abuse our family."  
Astrid nodded slowly, and looked to the open window and the world beyond. For the first time in a long while she heard the sound of the Northern wind, calling her home. And she was not afraid.


End file.
